The Physical
by tprillahfiction
Summary: S/Mc To settle a score, McCoy gives Spock an 'old style' physical. SLASH


Title: The Physical

Author: Lisa Hamner

Rating: M for m/m

Codes: S/Mc

Series: TOS

Summary: McCoy gives Spock an 'old style' physical exam. SLASH

Beta: Nick, all errors are my own.

Author's note: Lighthearted, fun story; nothing too deep.

feedback: yes please

Warning: if you're not a fan of m/m then don't read. Under 18 please don't read.

Archive: This one...SpockMcCoy haven... any site of Tempest's... all others please ask.

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount, Viacom, CBS and whoever else except me. I make no money from this. (believe me I'd be in hog heaven if I could…sigh)

* * *

THE PHYSICAL

"Perhaps you two should get married."

Doctor Leonard McCoy choked on his buttered toast as he glared across the table in the officer's mess. "Now why in god's name would you say that, Jim?"

"Well, the way you two always fight," joked Captain James T. Kirk into his coffee. "It reminds me of how my parents used to be."

"Oh, well, I am so glad that Mister Spock and I are so much entertainment for you," growled McCoy. "All I'm saying, Jim, is that I wish he would quit practicing medicine without a license. Spock, just because you might claim that you are able to read my medical scanner, it doesn't qualify you as a physician. It's pissing me off."

"I merely stated that I have the ability to interpret the audio signal of your type I scanner without benefit of tri-corder, Doctor McCoy," said Spock. "However, I do not purport to be a physician."

"Bullshit you don't need the tri-corder to interpret the signal. You wouldn't be able to sufficiently audio read without years of Med-school."

"It is not that difficult," replied Spock.

"Oh really." McCoy set his fork down into his plate of eggs, very deliberately. "Well then, if you think you are so damned clever, then how about you try to diagnose a patient without one! Just by touch. Think you could do that? Think you could perform a physical exam without a diagnostic panel? Well I can. If you think you can do my goddamned job…you just try it! That'll be great if you would. You could take care of my mountain of reports and I can take a long relaxing leave on Wrigley's pleasure planet and you can cover both of our duties while I'm gone--"

"Doctor McCoy…"

"--and perhaps you can also take over the captain's job…and maybe Scotty's too, so that the both of them can accompany me!" McCoy slammed his hand down on the table causing Kirk's coffee to slosh.

"Gentlemen…gentlemen!" Kirk rose from the table. "It's not even 0600 yet and you two are already at it."

"Well Jim, I don't appreciate being told how to do my job by this overgrown jackrabbit--"

"Overgrown jackrabbit? Doctor I've not heard that one before. Do you lie awake nights thinking of more insults to present to me at every breakfast?"

"Bones…Spock! Enough. Bones, now why wouldn't he be able to read your scanner? He can tie into the library computer wearing an earpiece without a translator, so why wouldn't he be able to do that? It would seem logi--"

"Logical? Thanks for coming to his defense, Jim," McCoy hissed.

"Come on you two, it's time to go," said the very annoyed captain. The three of them placed their dishes and trays into the recycler in silence. They strode down the corridor then stepped into the turbo-lift. "Coming to the bridge, Bones?"

"Nope," McCoy grunted.

"Fine. Suit yourself. Computer, stop at Deck 7, then Bridge."

As the lift began its ascent, Kirk attempted to joke, weakly, once again to uplift the gloom: "I still think you two should get married. What difference would it make?"

"That's getting old real quick, Jim. You do realize that Spock and I would have to be in a relationship to get married….so stop trying to push us together. I am not interested in Spock, and Spock is well… a…walking, breathing computer circuit only interested in…logic." McCoy shot a glare at the Vulcan, then at the captain. Spotting the captain's warning look in his eyes, McCoy finally softened then sighed. "Okay, okay Jim. Hey, Spock. Do you want to get married?" He looked over at the Vulcan, smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

"No, I most definitely, do not."

"There… Jim, you see?" McCoy proclaimed triumphantly, then stopped. "Hey…why the hell not, Spock!? I'm not such a bad catch you know."

"For who?" inquired Spock innocently.

Kirk couldn't help but laugh hysterically at the CMO. "For who! Bones, he's spending way too much time with you; he's becoming a smart-ass just like you."

The doors opened up to deck 7 to let McCoy off. It sounded to Kirk like McCoy muttered a "go to hell" under his breath before the doors snapped shut behind him.

"Did he just say what I thought he said?" asked Kirk.

Spock raised his eyebrow and said nothing.

"Eloquent as always." Kirk shook his head as they continued to the bridge. "So, Mister Spock, we don't reach the Altair system for another week. We'll be having a relaxing day today of star watching; at least I hope so. Anything planned for this morning?"

The doors of the lift opened up to the bridge and the two men sauntered out.

"I will be performing routine diagnostic tests of my scanners. I discovered some anomalies; however there is nothing serious."

"Ah well, that'll keep you busy."

"For 0.32 standard hours at least."

"Right." Kirk smiled as he got comfortable in his chair. "Mister Sulu, continue on course, steady as she goes."

"_Sickbay to Captain Kirk_," rang out the intercomm at Kirk's elbow.

"Kirk here. What is it Bones?"

"_Jim, I almost forgot. Spock has a physical at 0830 today."_

Kirk glanced over at the science/library computer where the Vulcan was intently bent over his station. "Physical? Are you sure, Bones? He didn't mention it."

"_I'm positive, Jim._"

"I have not forgotten about it, Doctor McCoy," Spock called over absently; not looking up.

"_Well, good_," said the CMO satisfactorily. "_Be down here in three minutes. McCoy out_."

Spock was already on his way to the lift when Kirk laughed, "I don't envy you…that's going to be one physical from hell, Spock."

--000--

"Come in…come in, Mister Spock," beckoned McCoy as the Vulcan entered diagnostic room A.

The doctor sighed as he studied the science officer. Ordinarily he would have a nurse prepare the patient for the exam and be present throughout, but in Spock's case he always handled it on his own out of respect for the Vulcan's privacy. Because of this, Spock's tri-monthly physicals always took a lot longer than the rest of the crew, but lately McCoy had it down to a science.

"Blue tunic, off," McCoy ordered as he picked up a Medi-padd and writing stylus. "Leave your t-shirt and trousers on. Then, lie down." As Spock did what the doctor asked of him, McCoy touched the diagnostic panel above the bed to adjust to Spock's vital signs.

"I calibrated it to your Vulcan vitals so we don't need to jump through a bunch of hoops just to get your proper readings," McCoy muttered. "I'll have you out of here so fast your ears'll spin."

"Were you serious about what you said earlier in the officer's mess, Doctor McCoy?" Spock asked as the CMO leaned over him to grab his small hand scanner.

"About what? You pissing me off? No…I was just blowing off a little steam… I'm… a little hung over this morning."

"Isn't there a noxious potion of yours available to alleviate alcoholic hangover?"

"Noxious? Ha ha, very funny. But you're right; it is disgusting. I don't like taking it. So, I'll just deal with the symptoms."

"I see," said Spock. "However, I was curious about the claim you made at breakfast. I would like to know if you are indeed able to conduct a physical examination without benefit of scanner."

"Yeah sure I can, for most of it, if I wanted to, why?" McCoy peered at the Vulcan suspiciously.

Spock sat up on his elbows. "Then do so."

"Are you calling my bluff?" McCoy snapped. Suddenly he felt as irritated as he was at breakfast. Spock, as usual, was either asking too many medical questions and driving McCoy crazy during physical exams, or attempting to self-diagnose, or taking it upon himself to treat McCoy during the times the doctor had been injured or ill planet-side. While McCoy was grateful, it was aggravating. The doctor could never understand why Spock hadn't become an M.D. himself.

"Because if you are callin' my bluff; it isn't going to work, Spock," McCoy grumped. "I don't have time for this."

Spock folded his arms, looking the very picture of Zen calm as he accused: "I do not believe you can do so, Doctor McCoy."

"Oh for god's sake, Spock, are you serious? Just trust me when I say that I can. Okay?"

"Do it." Spock looked up at the doctor in earnest.

"You mean to tell me you want a physical like they used to do in the old days of the service?" McCoy furrowed his brow.

"Precisely."

"But, it would take ages to complete it that way," McCoy whined.

"I have the time," Spock stated evenly.

"Well, how do you know that _I _have the time?"

"Have you not? There are no other physicals scheduled today."

"I might have reports to write."

"We have not been planet-side in a week. Nor shall we be, for another standard week."

"And…I would have to touch you, more than usual for a physical exam."

"That would be fine."

McCoy met the gaze of the Vulcan and saw the challenge in his eyes. "Okay okay, Spock, you win, you stubborn…" he said reluctantly, then looked around. "We'll need privacy. Follow me," he huffed. He picked up his Medi-padd and left the exam room.

As McCoy walked through his office, then the sickbay ward, he gathered up the few items he would need. He located then entered a private cubicle with Spock following close on his heels. "Door lock," he muttered as the doors shut him and Spock into the room.

"Door lock, Doctor McCoy?" asked Spock.

"Yeah, well, we don't want Nurse Chapel wandering in, in the middle of it, do we? Or maybe you do…you kinky Vulcan."

"Why, what are you going to do?"

"You'll see." McCoy set his equipment down. "Alright, get the rest of your uniform off."

"Everything?" asked Spock.

"Yes…everything…I'm waiting." McCoy folded his arms. "Come on, hurry up."

Spock shrugged and shed his trousers and regulation black t-shirt down to his underwear and thermal undershirt.

"That too, take it off," said McCoy pointing at him. "Hurry up, I don't have all day."

"Should you not leave the room, whilst I undress?"

"Not when time's a-wastin…come on, Spock."

Spock hesitated for another moment.

"Oh come on. You're not going to get all shy on me now, are ya?" McCoy chuckled. "What's the matter…afraid?"

"Negative," said Spock. "It is cold in here."

"Oh, oh sorry…" McCoy smiled. "Computer, raise the temp up to 35 degrees centigrade for my Vulcan friend here. Underwear off, Mister Spock."

Spock finally did so and McCoy found himself intently studying a nude, statuesque Vulcan.

"My god are you fit," McCoy whistled softly and gaped.

"Pardon?"

"Never mind," blushed the doctor, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Just get on the damn scale." As Spock complied, McCoy noted the Vulcan's weight in his Medi-padd. "Sixty-three kilo's…just under average weight for you. Need a little meat on your bones, Spock. I'll have to prescribe a diet change."

"I am at the same weight as I was during the last physical."

"Height…2.1 metres. Average…for a Vulcan, I suppose," grunted McCoy.

"You are nearly the same height as I am," Spock countered.

"Look, are you going to make a comment every step of the way? Just let me know."

"Negative. I was merely rep--"

"Lie down on that table," McCoy ordered. As Spock sighed, then did so, McCoy pulled a thermal sheet up to the Vulcan's waist. "Comfy?"

"As well as expected."

"Well, don't get too comfortable." McCoy rubbed his hands together so they wouldn't be too cold then examined by touch the Vulcan's lymph nodes, which were in the same location as a human. He could feel the warmth of the Vulcan's body underneath his deft fingertips. "Ever had a physical exam in this way?"

"Not like this, no."

"Starfleet physicians didn't insist on doing it like this?"

"I have always had scanner only exams where I was completely clothed," replied Spock. McCoy nodded in understanding. There was nothing inherently unusual in the Vulcan's reply. Starfleet diagnostic scanners were able to detect disease and other physical anomalies without regard for clothing.

"Ears," said McCoy as he lightly touched them. "I'm assuming they're average for a Vulcan, albeit big. Pointy." He looked inside the gracefully pointed ear with an antique Otoscope.

"Obviously."

"Well, see, you wanted it like this, so I have to do it the long, boring way," sighed McCoy. "I'm assuming your hearing is normal since the last time I tested you. Alright, on a scale of zero to five, zero being none obviously and five being worst. Are you in any physical discomfort at this point in time?"

"Negative."

"That isn't what I asked."

"The answer is zero."

"Excellent." McCoy shined the scope in the Vulcan's eyes. The eyes suddenly gleamed in the light with a hint of hazel in them; lighter than they usually appeared. "My what a lovely shade of brown…" McCoy noticed.

"Doctor…"

McCoy laughed faintly. "Eyes…their appearance is normal. Scanner indicates you have perfect vision."

"That is cheating, Doctor McCoy."

"Just seeing if you were paying attention…okay fine then… follow my finger with your eyes. Now, open your mouth…teeth…normal…you only have twenty eight of them."

"We go through this every time. You are fully aware that amount is normal for me," said Spock.

"Nice, you're trying to talk with a tongue depressor in your mouth. Just shut the hell up," McCoy snapped as he absently jotted the results down on the padd.

"Certainly--"

"Sh!…okay? Blood pressure…Oh, Spock…Look here what I have." He smiled and wrapped a device Spock had never seen before around the Vulcan's right arm. "Eighty-three over forty…normal for you…though slightly elevated," he noted. "What's the matter; nervous?"

"Negative. What is this device?"

"We do have some antique early 22nd century equipment lying around for emergencies. It's an electronic sphygmomanometer. It takes blood pressure readings by cutting off blood flow very slightly with the cuff, then measures the pressure with the manometer. You know, the early mercury manometer's in the 20th century used subtle hissing sounds to show readings." McCoy snickered, then said: "Maybe you could read _it_as well as you claim to be able read my scanner."

Spock did not respond to McCoy's teasing. "I do not enjoy the sensation of wearing this device."

"Big baby! Yeah, it feels a bit tight on your arm I guess. I used this one instead of the tiny digital finger one…because I thought you'd appreciate it. Guess I was wrong. I'm done, anyhow." McCoy pulled it off the Vulcan's arm, then picked up something else.

"What is this item's function?"

"Hey are you going to keep asking me the function of every piece of equipment? You're slowing us down," grumbled McCoy. Spock shrugged with one shoulder. "Well if you must know, this thing takes your temperature, it's a mercury thermometer; an old one…and if you keep asking me a bunch of questions, I'll take your temp _rectally_."

"I am understandably curious."

The CMO slipped it into the Vulcan's mouth. "Now…Sh!…For it to work...you have to stop talking!" After waiting for three minutes; he pulled it out of Spock's mouth and gazed at the thin glass tube with the beautiful liquid metal inside. "I've had this thing for years."

"Is a mercury thermometer safe to use?"

"Well, as long as I don't drop it. As usual your readings are going through the roof…but your temp is normal for a Vulcan. This thing can't be calibrated for you. Pulse…" He picked up a wrist and held onto the radial artery in the Vulcan's wrist. "Pulse is two-forty-two. Normal. For a Vulcan. For a human, deadly."

Spock said nothing. McCoy smiled gratefully, then picked up an item Spock had definitely never seemed before and which seemed quite barbaric.

"Fascinated by this thing, huh? This here is a stethoscope…a vintage late 21st century one. It was my father's. It was an antique when he acquired it. It's one of the only things I have of his." McCoy regarded it with a loving eye as he held it up in front of the science officer.

"Agreed. It is fascinating. What does it do?"

"I'd thought you'd like it. I can hear your heart with it. And also your respiratory rate. The only problem with it, is when it touches your skin it'll be very cold…" McCoy slipped it on his ears then put the metal disk on the Vulcan's skin over the heart (where the liver should be) and felt a slight wince under his hands. "See? I wasn't kidding."

"I noticed."

"Arm," ordered McCoy. He grabbed the Vulcan's hand, pulled the arm straight and pressed a blood-drawing hypo against the vein. "Didn't like that, did you."

"I did not comment."

"Of course you didn't." McCoy rolled his eyes. "I'll forgo the semen and urine samples this time round."

"How very thoughtful of you Doctor."

"I know." As he felt the Vulcan's joints and extremities he felt another flinch. "Now what the hell's the matter?"

"Your hands are cold."

"Sorry. Okay, Spock. How are we today? Any strange emotions creeping up on you that you want to tell your kindly old doctor? Anything you want to report? Anything bothering you?"

"Besides the physical?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Nothing to report."

"Wonderful. Now comes the fun part."

"Pardon?"

"Sarcasm, Spock. Lets just hurry up and get this over with." McCoy pulled the sheet off the Vulcan. He snapped on a rubber glove, then hesitated. "Uh…Spock."

"Yes?"

"Sure you don't want me to use a scanner?"

"I am sure."

"Okay suit yourself." McCoy grabbed onto the Vulcan's testicles with as much clinical detachment as he could muster. "Genitalia normal; scrotum…normal… alright, cough…please."

"Pardon?"

"You heard…I need to check for hernia…"

"Vulcan's get--?"

"Yes…Vulcan's can get hernia…I have to check for it…okay? Are you going to cough or am I going to hold onto your testicles all day?" Spock obliged him. "Good, now was that so difficult?"

"Are you going to keep holding onto me?"

McCoy let go. "Sorry."

"Are we finished, Doctor McCoy?"

"No we are not finished, Mister Spock," smirked the CMO. "Now for the grand finale. Hop down, and lean over against the bed."

"For what purpose?"

"Just do what I ask," said McCoy. "Hey you wanted it like this, an old fashioned physical…"

"Acknowledged," Spock replied slowly and did what McCoy asked of him. McCoy put some medical lube on his gloved finger then slid it in all the way up the Vulcan's rectum. And found what he was looking for. "Prostate…normal…no abnormalities…"

"Good…" Spock gasped.

"Am I hurting you?" McCoy withdrew his finger slowly.

"No. Just a bit…shocking. Is all."

"Never had anyone touch your prostate, huh? There, it's complete." The doctor pulled off his glove and hurtled it towards the waste disposal. "Your first ever scanner-less physical. Did you enjoy that, you pervert?"

"There was a certain novelty to it," agreed Spock.

"Whatever," McCoy huffed. "Now, are you quite through tormenting me with your naked body?"

"I am, Beloved," said Spock with a slight smile. "Perhaps in the future on our nights together you will not imbibe to a comatose state."

"Well," said McCoy. He leaned over to lightly kiss the Vulcan's lips. "I think I've learned my lesson. I hadn't realized you'd be so upset with me. Now I know the boundaries of our relationship."

"Precisely."

McCoy shook his head and smiled. "Here smart-ass, scan me. I want to see if _you_ can really do what _you_ claim." He picked up his Type I scanner and handed it to the Vulcan.

In all seriousness, Spock ran the scanner over McCoy's chest. "Heart rate elevated…Blood pressure…elevated. Respiration…elevated."

"I coulda told you that, Spock!" laughed McCoy. "Because you are driving me crazy…if the both of us weren't on duty I'd have you right here on this bed. Now that I know you have a…healthy prostate."

"Indeed," said Spock. "The end of my watch is a whole ten standard hours away."

McCoy straightened up with difficulty. "I'll just have to wait till then, I guess."

There was a hint of mischief in the Vulcan's eyes. "You do have to test my heart rate after physical activity…do you not?"

"Yeah why--?"

"It does not specify in the manual…what sort of physical activity one must perform."

McCoy laughed naughtily. "No, it sure doesn't." He slid his arms around the Vulcan's waist. "You know we wouldn't be able to do this…if it was a "scheduled physical"…would we."

"No…"

"Hey Spock, are we ever going to tell Jim the truth about us? "

"I suppose we should… eventually."

--

finis


End file.
